


Promise me

by ThisShipHasSails



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Post-Episode: s11e08 The Witchfinders, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisShipHasSails/pseuds/ThisShipHasSails
Summary: Post-ep The Witchfinders – the soft Thasmin ending that should have been.M rated for 2nd chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

“Doctor, can I ask you a question?” They are in the control room, the Doctor and Yaz. It’s late, and Ryan and Graham have said their goodnights a while back. The two women have been in comfortable silence until Yaz’s question breaks it.

“Always”, the Doctor replies, her focus still on one of the monitors.

“Weren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid?” Now she shifts her attention and her whole body with it to face Yaz.

“That you would drown in that river and”, Yaz almost cannot bring herself to say it out loud and takes a breath before continuing, “and die”, she ends softly.

“Die? Nah. Not afraid of dying. Got a trick for that. Oldest trick in the book, you might say. Mind you, wouldn’t fancy it, now that I’ve just gotten used to this face.”

Yaz tries a smile but it never reaches her eyes. There is a time and place for making light of the dark, but now is not it, she thinks. Not when she wants the Doctor to understand something that she has only just figured out for herself: how important she is to her.

“I was afraid”, she admits, and then quickly adds, “we all were. Graham was almost beside himself with worry. Never seen him like that.”

She thinks that the Doctor has seen through her thinly veiled confession and knows it for a fact as she lifts her eyes and meets hers. The Doctor’s eyes shine with emotion and warmth and Yaz, who never believed in the triteness of the phrase, finds herself drowning in them.

“Can you promise me something, Doctor?”

“Anything. Though”, she adds with a frown and an apologetic smile, “whether I can keep it, might be a different question.”

“Promise me to try and stay safe? We can’t have a universe with no Doctor.”

The tears in Yaz’s eyes belie the levity of her tone, and the Doctor can’t help herself. She takes a step towards her to close the gap between them and pulls Yaz into a hug. She is getting the hang of these, she thinks, and the thought makes her smile. Or maybe it’s the feeling of Yaz in her arms that does it, her warmth, the steady beat of her heart that she can feel through her clothes, the smell of her hair, the slight shift in weight as they move even closer.

And suddenly she feels her own hearts picking up a new beat and the heat between them takes on a new quality. Where there was comfort before, there is now tension, _or, no, not tension – anticipation_ , she thinks, and where there was companionship before, there is now something tangibly new, something yet to be named, but something very much _there_.

But before she allows herself to succumb to the temptation of this new sensation, she pulls herself together and draws back slightly so she can look at Yaz. She just has to be sure. 

She opens her mouth to ask the question, but then the look in Yaz’s eyes provides her with the answer: desire. It makes her brown eyes appear almost black, and what a pretty colour that is, she thinks, before she feels her own eyes shut in that split second before their lips touch, and she suddenly finds thinking to be rather overrated as she leans into the kiss and pulls Yaz closer.


	2. More time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pwp

“Yaz”, she sighs, her voice now barely more than a whisper, as she feels Yaz’s body pressed flush against her own. “Please”, and she doesn’t even know what it is she is asking for, just knows that this is somehow not enough contact, not enough pressure, just _not enough_.

That is, until she feels Yaz’s hands sneak into the back pockets of her trousers.

_No more empty pockets!_

And she wants to laugh out loud at the thought, but it comes out as a moan as she feels the heat of Yaz’s hands through the thick fabric of her trousers and feels a corresponding heat rise in her own core.

“Doctor, tell me what you want”, Yaz says, and the breathy voice by her ear sets her nerve ends on fire and makes her knees go weak. She stumbles back a couple of steps until her legs hit the TARDIS console, all the while holding on to Yaz by her hips, effectively pulling her along so as not to lose even an inch of body contact.

“More”, she says, because she suddenly finds long sentences quite hard because Yaz’s fingers trailing lazy circles underneath her shirt are rather distracting.

“More of you”, she adds for good measure and hears a soft chuckle in response, feels Yaz’s smile against her neck at the almost-repetition of the words that will forever be etched in her mind. And as the smile turns to a kiss right on her pulse points, _feel_ is suddenly all she does.

Left of any coherent thought, she is now all sensation.

And so much of it feels deeply familiar, though almost forgotten, and so much else of it feels entirely new. Like that almost-ticklish sensation she feels as Yaz slowly moves her hand underneath her shirt to finally touch her bare skin?

_Familiar_.

Like the urge deep inside her to move that hand up to finally – _finally_ – touch her breast?

_Definitely new_.

And when Yaz finally does move her hand up and under her bra and begins first circling, then gently _then not so gently_ teasing her nipple?

“Gods, yes, don’t stop, Yaz, please don’t stop, whatever you do, don’t…”

_Yapp, also new_.

Her ramblings earn her another chuckle, somewhat lower in timbre this time round and tinted with arousal.

“Should’ve known you’d be a talker.”

“Used to be a screamer, too. Wonder if I still am.”

Not missing a beat, Yaz whispers into her ear.

“One way to find out, I’d say.”


End file.
